Aurian struggled with him, reluctant, despite her desperation, to hurt him. “Get out of my way,” she cried, “I’ve got to stop them!”
“You’ll have to kill me first.” Anvar’s voice was quiet, but his eyes met hers without flinching. “I’m not letting you kill yourself over this, Aurian.”
It was too late. The boat had been lowered. The men were climbing in. Eight strong rowers, four on each side—and a man in the bow, clutching a harpoon. Aurian glared at Anvar. “Damn you!” she spat. “Run!” she screamed at the whales, projecting the thought with all the force of her mind. “Run, oh run!” The whales, discovering the danger, turned and fled, diving for safety beneath the surface. But the boat was swift, the oarsmen propelling it through the water with mighty strokes And the whales had to surface to breathe. Aurian was holding her own breath. The captain and the three remaining crev. members worked frantically, trimming the sails to follow the flight of the stricken creatures as closely as they could.
For a moment Aurian thought the whales would escape.
Then she saw the smallest baby left behind, exhausted. It swam bly on the surface, uttering plaintive cries for help as the boat closed in, the distance narrowing rapidly. The man in the bow raised his arm, clutching the harpoon, another ready in his left hand. Why? Then Aurian saw what he had already seen. The whale-child’s mother, racing frantically back to her stricken baby—as he had known she would. The harpoonist pulled his arm back for the cast . . .
Aurian cried out, raising her hand in a sharp gesture—and the boat disintegrated, every plank flying apart from every other, pitching the floundering men into the sea.
“Bring her round,” Jurdag bellowed. “Get some ropes!”
In the confusion, the mother whale, joined now by her mate, managed to round up their lost child. Helping the baby along, one on either side, they followed the rest of their family to the safety of the open sea, their cries of gratitude ringing in Aurian’s mind as she relaxed, weak with relief.
Then, suddenly, she felt the triumphant grasp of Miathan’s mind as he located her through the use of her magic. “Get out!” she screamed silently, striking back with all the force she could muster. She felt his pain and shock, felt his clutch slip away— and slammed her shield back into place. But she knew, with a sinking heart, that it was too late. She had betrayed them. He knew where they were, and he would be back.
Then Anvar was upon her, his face rigid with fury, “You did that!” he hissed, “Don’t you know that sailors can’t swim? You’ve probably drowned them all! ^And what if they realize that they’ve got a bloody Mage on board? How could you be so stupid^and so callous?”
It was more than Aurian could take. “How dare you question my deeds?” she snarled.
Anvar’s Up curled. “Ah,” he said bitterly. “Now it comes out. How dare I, a mere servant, criticize one of the great and lordly Magefolk! All that talk about being companions! Pah!” He spat contemptuously onto the deck. “When it comes down to it, Lady, you’re no less arrogant and despicable than the rest of them!” Shouldering her roughly aside, he stormed back into the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
Sara was startled by the violence of Anvar’s entrance. “That Mage,” she heard him mutter. “That bloody bitch!” She stifled a smile of triumph. So he had quarreled with Aurian! It was hardly what she had expected, but ... In the long hours spent in this dingy hole, she had done some hard thinking. She knew that she was very much alone—cut off, possibly forever, from the luxuries of her former life. It was unlikely that she’d see that ass Vannor again, so she was going to need someone to take care of her—and at the moment, Anvar was her only option. At least she had always been able to twist him round her little finger—that was about the only advantage, she thought scornfully. The problem had lain in getting him away from that red-haired harpy. But now, here he was—upset, and off balance. Easy. “Why, Anvar,” she said, “whatever has happened?”
He told her—at great length—pacing back and forth in the cramped confines of the cabin. Sara could make little sense of it all, but that didn’t matter. “I can’t believe it,” he kept saying, shaking his head in baffled dismay. “I just can’t believe it of her.”
“Who knows what the Magefolk are capable of?” Sara said insinuatingly. “They’ve never had our interests at heart. What does it matter, anyway? You’re free of them now, don’t you see.’ Free of her. What can she do about it? When we dock at Easthaven, we can do what we like, go where we want. We could be together . . .”
“Sara?” Anvar turfieYi to her, stunned. Did she mean it? Could it possibly be true, that she still loved him after all?
The few feet of space between them was a gulf of years, of hurt, of heartache, but Sara seemed to fly over the intervening gap, and at long last her slight form was in his arms once more. As she turned her face to him, the lamplight glowed on her fine-spun hair and her eyes glistened with tears. “Thank goodness,” she whispered. “Thank goodness I’ve found you at last!”
Anvar could hardly believe it. Were all his dreams finally coming true?
“I was so afraid,” Sara went on. “But you’ve been so brave. You’ve been wonderful, wonderful.” Breathlessly she hurried on without giving him a chance to speak. “Oh, Anvar, I’ve missed you so much!”
At last Anvar found his voice. “But I thought you hated , Sara. After what you said—”
She sighed. “Anvar, I was so deeply hurt. I—I hardly knew what I was doing. Forgive me, please. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved . . .” Her tears overflowed, spilling down her flawless face.
Anvar crushed her to his breast, never wanting to let her go, his heart soaring. “Sara, my love, don’t cry. That’s all over now. We’ll do whatever you say, anything you want. We’ll go away, and be together.”
Sara smiled. Then, putting her arms around his neck, she kissed him, long and deep, with all the lost passion of their youth. For a moment Anvar was completely taken aback, but her kiss awakened all the frustrated longings he had kept buried in his heart. His arms tightened around her as he returned her kisses with increasing urgency and fervor. His heart began to pound, and he found himself going rigid with excitement as he fumbled at the fastenings of her bodice to touch her breasts, her—
“What is this?” Aurian stood in the doorway, her voice stern, her expression thunderous. “Is this how you repay Vannor for his love?” she stormed at Sara, who gave a little cry of fear, her hands fumbling at the open neck of her dress.
Anvar put himself between the two women. “You mind your own business,” he told the Mage flatly. “Sara and I were lovers once, and parted through no fault of our own—I was sold into slavery to you, and she was sokKinto slavery of another kind. We’ve suffered enough, and now we’re going to take what’s due to us—and don’t you try to interfere!”
“Not interfere!” Aurian cried. “By the Gods, Anvar, how could you sink so low? With another man’s wife—a good man, who trusted you!”
“Don’t you lecture me on bloody morals!” Anvar yelled at her, beside himself with rage at the insidious guilt her words had raised. “You—you murderess!”
Aurian stared at him, her mouth open, her face white and blank with shock. Then she whirled, and was gone. Sara smiled a smug little smile.
Everything was quiet on deck. Not a soul was about, except the captain at the helm and the solitary lookout perched high above on the mainmast. The rest of the crew were below, greatly subdued by the loss of two of their comrades in the accident that afternoon. One of the dead had been the harpoonist, and Aurian could not bring herself to be sorry for his loss. She went quietly to her accustomed place in the bow, her mind reeling from the shock of what she had just witnessed, and the venom of Anvar’s attack.